


Blink Twice; It's Real

by IcyPanther



Series: Blink [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Admiral Lance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Coran (Voltron)-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Leader Lance (Voltron), Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24625249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Lance still can’t believe it’s real. They’re here. They’re back. His team, his family. It’s been five years for him, not even a day for them, but time doesn’t matter becausethey’re here.Except… except not everyone is. Because Coran died while they were gone. And the hole he’s left behind is bigger and more painful than ever before.
Relationships: Allura & Lance (Voltron), Coran & Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) & Everyone
Series: Blink [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613788
Comments: 73
Kudos: 366





	Blink Twice; It's Real

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** sequel to _In the Blink of an Eye_ , AU of post season seven  
>  **Warning notes:** none, other than the fic does deal with the death of a loved one and mourning/grief. Oh, and you will probably need tissues.

Lance still couldn’t believe this was real.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice. 

The scene stayed the same:

Hunk on his left, one of his arms draped around Lance’s shoulders and even though Lance was the taller one now the familiar hold didn’t feel different at all, Veronica on his right, her hand intertwined with his and her other clasped tightly in Mamá’s where she and Papa and the rest of his family were gathered in a half semi-circle around them. Lance felt a pang that Mr. and Mrs. Garrett — Tam and Lailah as they insisted but old habits died hard and Lance found a comforting familiarity from his childhood and continued to use them more times than not — weren’t here; Mr. Garrett was on a supply run and Mrs. Garrett went wherever her husband went, as they hadn’t wanted to be on base for the memorial ceremony that evening. He understood. It was… hard, to be reminded of all the people they’d lost.

Something though had always told him that they would come back, that this couldn’t be how it all ended. It was just…

As the years went on and Honevera’s power grew he wondered if maybe…

Maybe it was a fool’s hope. If it was time to stop dreaming.

He was glad he hadn’t.

Some dreams did come true.

He squeezed Veronica’s hand a little tighter and his arm where it was trapped between the couch and Hunk’s back, tightened as much as it could where he had it crossing Hunk’s shoulders in a half-hug. 

He’d already sent word to have the Garretts notified and hopefully it wouldn’t be more than a few days before they were reunited with their son. 

On the couch across the coffee table Pidge was squashed between Colleen and Matt, Bae Bae spread across her lap while Commander Holt sat on the floor, the new puppy sound asleep in his arms and one hand intertwined with his wife’s.

Krolia, Keith and Shiro were sitting around a small table, faces more serious than Lance wished they were but he supposed if they had to be filled in more than his own abbreviated version right now than at least they were hearing it from Krolia, who had yet to let go of her grip around Keith’s arm since they’d been reunited.

Allura had excused herself to where the grave and memorial for Coran were. Lance had wanted to go with her — he didn’t want her to be alone, not for this — but Romelle had offered to accompany her, a basket on her arm that Lance knew held the last stubs of a candle Alteans used in mourning rituals.

He would never dream of intruding on something like that.

He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to Allura. To all of them.

He’d gained back a family he’d lost.

And they…

They had lost family in the blink of an eye.

Lance had had years to process, to come to terms with it all where they’d all had but hours since re-emerging from a wormhole that afternoon.

It still didn’t feel real.

He certainly hadn’t expected for today to gone as it had. The fighting, sure, as Honevera sent out ships almost daily to both attack the base to remind them of her power and control and also to try to draw out the Red Lion as she was the only real match for most of the Altean ships powered by dark magic and Honevera knew it. She knew if the Red Lion fell…

Earth would too.

Lance would not let that happen.

He and Red would not let that happen.

It was the main reason he’d been promoted to admiral.

Lance fought often on the front lines; he had to and he understood that. He’d done it without complaint for nearly three years even though he was tired and exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with sleep, and he never knew if today would be the day that… that whatever had kept him here ran is course. The vice-admirals weren’t like Sanda either; sacrificing pilots and weapons against enemies they couldn’t win against (and it still hurt to know how officers and even older former classmates Lance had known had died in such a cruel, senseless way).

But as time dragged on and no progress was made, as food ran short and water low and hope even moreso, desperation grew.

And Hoenevera could no doubt feel it.

She’d launched a massive attack, so much that it had literally shook the base and Lance had been ordered to fight. 

He’d gone. He knew Earth needed him to. 

He’d lost his eye.

His face twinged at the memory; of shrapnel and purple lightning and screams that couldn’t have been his own but he knew they were, and it could have been worse, it could have been so much worse. 

An eye was a small price to pay.

Even though…

He closed his eyes against both the memory and the slight stinging; the eye sightless but tear ducts still working just fine.

Today was a happy day.

There wasn’t time to mourn a loss. Not when others had lost so much more.

Lance losing an eye had been bad; for him, for Earth, for their chance at surviving Honevera. 

But it had all come to a boiling point when not even a week later he’d been ordered back to battle when he could barely walk a straight line, couldn’t move without feeling pain, couldn’t _see_ where he used to with stunning accuracy.

And the vice-admirals…

They hadn’t cared. They’d been scared, Lance knew, as Honevera closed in, as they had to give up part of the base to better defend a smaller section, as she made demands for them to surrender the Red Lion but even they were not so stupid to believe she would let them go if they did so.

And so the only solution was to fight. And the only ship that could fight was the Red Lion. And the only one who could pilot the Red Lion…

Was Lance.

Collen and Coran had had it. Colleen had stepped up in place of Sam’s disappearance, not officially a commander but with enough clout to practically be one, and Coran, while holding no rank in the Galaxy Garrison but not letting that stop him, had called for a communal of all the officers that remained to force the two vice-admirals to step down from their positions.

It…

Had been ugly.

Lance had not witnessed it but he’d heard about it.

In the end though…

The two vice-admirals had been demoted to captains, Colleen promoted to the sole vice-admiral and Lance…

Lance had become admiral even though, technically, he was still a cadet, at barely twenty-one years old.

Lance had always dreamed of being the leader.

He hadn’t wanted it. Not like this. 

But Earth needed a leader and they’d picked him and he wasn’t going to let them down.

Maybe this… this was why he’d been left behind.

It brought him a small comfort, a better answer than the what ifs that flared up almost daily that if he’d just been there, if they’d have been able to form Voltron then maybe…

Maybe everyone else would still be here too.

Having Pidge’s steadfast calculations but soft eyes and Veronica’s murmured words had made what everyone else had been trying to convince him of for years finally real and he’d finally, _finally_ believed it.

But…

But now he was left to wonder…

If he hadn’t been made admiral, hadn’t been in charge of missions...

Would Coran still be here too?

His eyes stung again and before Lance could blink it away he felt a tear free itself, tracking along his cheek.

And based on the slight shift next to him Hunk had seen it too.

“Lance?” Hunk’s breath was warm on his ear. “What’s wrong?”

Lance gave a tiny shake of his head. “Nothing,” he whispered.

He wasn’t going to ruin this for everyone else.

“Lance,” Hunk said in his I-know-you’re-not-being-fully-honest-with-me-and-I-am-concerned voice, a hair firmer if still soft. '' _¿Qué pasa, hermano?”_

Lance could face down Honevera’s forces without blinking.

Could command men and women more than double his age.

But he couldn’t face Hunk right now.

“Nothing,” he repeated. “Just… just so glad to have you back. That… that everyone is here.”

That wasn’t a lie. Not at all. 

They were just…

Missing someone still. 

And unlike the others, as faint a hope as it had been, he wasn’t coming back. 

Lance had had two years to process Coran’s death, to come to terms with the fact he knew Coran would not have blamed him, would not have wanted Lance to blame himself. They all knew the risks associated with every mission, with every fight. War was war and people died no matter how many precautions, how careful, how much you prayed. 

But having everyone back now, seeing their grief — especially Allura’s — it felt as fresh as if it had been yesterday. 

The hole Coran had left behind was so much larger now. 

Hunk squeezed him. “Me too,” he murmured. “But…”

But he knew that wasn’t all of it.

Hunk had always been able to read him and still stood true five years later. Lance was both grateful for it — some things never truly changed — and hate him for it because not now, not tonight. 

But it apparently wasn’t meant to be as he felt Veronica shifting on his right, his name a quiet, concerned breath, and he could feel other eyes from across the room landing upon him and _Dios,_ he hadn’t wanted this. 

“ _Lo siento,”_ he whispered. “ _Estoy bien.”_

It sounded as convincing to himself as apparently it had to the others as there was the soft sound of footsteps, of chairs and tables sliding backwards, and people crowding in and he couldn’t lift his head, single eye trained on his knee and watching as a dark splotch spread across his pants from the tears he couldn’t even try to stop now. 

He needed to stop crying.

He was an admiral now. He was a leader.

He couldn't…

Couldn’t fall apart like this.

He couldn’t be so…

So _selfish._

Everyone else had lost _five years._ They’d just found out they’d lost Coran. They’d come back to a future that was far bleaker than the past they had left behind.

 _They_ should be crying.

Not him.

He had no right.

He still couldn’t stop.

“Lance,” Shiro’s voice was so soft, his hand just as much as it rested gently on his knee over the tearstains. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

Lance shook his head.

Nothing.

Everything.

He didn’t even know what to say.

“—been a long day,” he heard Colleen say and Mamá’s gentle agreement. 

Lance choked on a sob.

A long day didn’t even begin to describe it. 

A long five years, maybe, came a little closer.

But… 

But if the others thought that was all it was, then maybe…

Maybe he could leave before he ruined what should have been a happy evening.

“ _Lo siento,”_ he whispered again, lifting his head, scene blurred by his tears even as he rapidly blinked, trying to meet Shiro’s eyes. “They’re… they’re right. I’m just… just really tired.”

Even as he said it he could see the understanding, the knowing, filling Shiro’s face.

A face that was the same.

Whereas his was so...

So _different._

It made his eyes sting again.

“I know, buddy,” Shiro said softly. 

Lance swallowed, averting his eyes. 

No more crying.

“I’ll just… just…”

He made to get up, trying to disentangle his hand from Veronica’s — she only clung tighter — and pull his arm free from Hunk — who squashed it against the couch.

Pidge’s hand — so small, she was so small and had she always been that tiny? — landed on his other knee, further keeping him rooted. “Don’t go,” she whispered.

Keith was even more blunt even if his tone was soft. “We’re a team. We’re…” he swallowed. “We’re family. We stay together.” 

Lance’s lip trembled.

Together.

But they weren’t all there.

Coran was gone.

Allura had left.

He was different from the boy they had once known. 

How could they stay together like that?

“Let’s go… go see Coran,” Hunk’s voice hitched on the name, somehow, always, knowing exactly what it was. “If… if that’s okay.”

Lance gave a jerking nod.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

It didn’t feel like enough.

“Oh, Lance,” Veronica leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “ _No más disculpas. No más.”_

“ _Mijio_ ,” Mamá’s voice was soft. “ _Sabes que él no querría que estuvieras triste.”_

“ _Yo sé,_ ” Lance whispered. “It’s just…”

He didn’t even know what he was trying to say.

“Come on,” Hunk gave him a small nudge. “Let’s go.”

A few minutes later Lance was leading the original team Voltron — everyone else staying behind for now — out to the small memorial garden they’d managed to keep safe all these years. Most names were on small plaques on the stone wall, a never ending list that hurt to look at but one Lance made himself read each time because those were people he had been responsible for, people who needed to be remembered, but there were also small memorials placed throughout the grounds on rotating digital pedestals, sorted alphabetically.

Allura was kneeling in front of Coran’s, the holographic technology showing an image of him, caught mid-pose tweaking his moustache, in a soft orange color that Lance had insisted upon, a few candles with the flames now gone out right beneath it, Romelle gone as well.

There was no way Allura hadn’t heard them but she did not move.

Lance didn’t know how to break the silence.

“Nice photo,” Pidge’s voice, loud but soft, cut into it. “You pick that out, Lance?”

He managed a nod.

“It suits him,” Keith said quietly. 

That seemed to be the cue for everyone to move forward and approach.

Shiro didn’t though, his hand landing on Lance’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “He’d be so proud of you, Lance. We’re… we’re _all_ so proud of you.”

Lance’s eyes stung again.

Shiro moved off then, sparing Lance from having to respond, sinking to his knees next to Allura to pay his respects, a soft murmur he couldn’t fully hear passing between them.

A moment later Allura rose and turned towards him.

Lance swallowed thickly.

She’d had some time to process now, some time to realize _who_ would have sent Coran on that mission.

Would she…?

But there was a softness to Allura’s face, an almost smile pulling up her lips even though her eyes were red and tear tracks stained her cheeks.

“The ground in front of Coran’s grave,” she said quietly. “It has an indentation.”

Two knee-shaped indentations to be specific, Lance knew.

“I… I come here a, a lot,” he admitted quietly. “I—”

He was cut off as Allura stepped forward and wrapped her arms about him, a gentler version of their embrace from earlier. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, breath warm on his cheek. “Thank you for being there for him.”

“Allura, I…” he pressed his face into her hair. “I’m so… so sor—”

“Do not apologize,” she interrupted without any heat. “Please, Lance. Do not apologize. There is no blame to be found here.”

Lance’s eyes were hot.

She didn’t… 

She was…

He swallowed again.

“...okay,” he agreed quietly. “Okay.”

Allura relaxed against him before she stepped out of the embrace, but captured his hands — thumb rubbing over the burns trailing up his right — before he could step back further.

“One… one of the traditions for an Altean funeral is the remembrance of memory. It is sharing stories with others who have loved the departed. Please,” she squeezed his hands, “will you… will you help me to do so?”

“Of course,” Lance whispered, voice thick. “Of course, Allura.”

“Then come,” she gave his hands a gentle tug towards the memorial, towards the others. “Let us celebrate his life.”

Lance let himself be led and settled into the warm press of bodies where stories and laughter and tears overflowed.

It was perfect. It was exactly what Coran would have wanted.

And for tonight he was not Admiral Lance Esposito. He was just Lance, surrounded by his family.

All of them.

And although he had not been the one to leave…

Now…

Now he was finally home. 

**Author's Note:**

> I sobbed like a baby while I wrote this fic and I sob just as hard whenever I read it. Anyone else need a tissue? This was a request for a sequel to the earlier Blink series fic (and I decided immediately it was gonna be a Coran focus ♥), and I was hoping it might be a little mini-series (I had so many titles in mind all with the word ‘Blink’ xD) but the requester is no longer able to request fics and that means it has come to an end (and I debated carrying it on but given the reception on this part of it, that's gonna be a nope xD). But ending on the gorgeous man, in any capacity, is always a good way to go. 
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic, please leave a comment below detailing what you liked about it (and the small details make my day!). Fanfiction is meant to be engaged with. _**Please, please, please**_ don’t just be a page click or a kudo or a bookmark. Instead be an engaged, appreciative reader and leave a comment to show said appreciation and give the author a little love for sharing their work. Thank you so much to those who do ♥
> 
> 💥 **(Like my works? Want to read even MORE? Visit my[Tumblr, icypantherwrites](https://icypantherwrites.tumblr.com)!)💥**  
> 


End file.
